Blog Battle – December Submission: A Georgetown Misadventure

The word for December is ‘Heart’, so I thought I’d relate this true story about when my husband Sam and I had a rather terrifying experience in Georgetown, Grand Cayman, in February 2017:

A GEORGETOWN MISADVENTURE, by STEVIE TURNER

Have you ever stepped out of your comfort zone? I did back in February 2017 as Sam and I and about 20 other people waited in the rain on the dock at Georgetown, Grand Cayman, for the last tender to take us back to our cruise ship. The skies were black, and I hoped we would get back to the safety of the ship, which had been anchored in deeper waters, before the storm really began. The excursion supervisor looked up and assured us it would only be one of those squally showers that can afflict Georgetown in February, and we had no doubt that the sun would soon return from behind the clouds.

A howling wind whipped frothy waves up over our sandals as we waited. I looked at my watch; the ship would be sailing at 4pm, and the last tender was due to leave at 3.30. It was already 3.20. A few of us hardy souls had taken a longer than average trolley ride around the capital, braving the inclement weather and singing to the driver while he had unrolled plastic sheeting down the sides of the trolley in a futile attempt to keep us dry.

By 3.45 and with no sign of the rain abating, we boarded a bobbing tender. The ship had a tight schedule, and tardy guests missing the deadline had to make their own way to the next port of call, which was hundreds of miles away. A local company had provided the means of transporting three thousand cruise passengers from ship to shore and back again, and so the cruise ship’s own orange tenders (doubling as lifeboats) had not been launched that day.

As the tender rocked and rolled in the howling wind, I was glad I hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast. Passengers cheered as wave after wave splashed up over them, but all I wanted to do was get back to the relative stability of the huge cruise ship. The up and down motion of a small boat had never been a favourite of mine. I closed my eyes and wished the moments away.

I felt the height of the waves increase. Sam informed me with some concern that they looked to be at least ten feet high. I didn’t want to open my eyes. I could hear passengers still cheering. Sam laughed and told me we had reached the ship, and that passengers were performing Mexican waves as the boat was tossed about. I opened my eyes and saw the ship’s crew standing in the gangway on deck 2 waiting to receive us. Our little boat bashed against the sides of the ship, the engine strained, and it was obvious to all and sundry that we could not dock.

As the boat struggled to stay upright in the wind and waves, the crew of the tender began to hand us out life jackets. A long pole was retrieved from its moorings above, and placed on the floor. Suddenly the passengers ceased to cheer, and all that could be heard over the noise of the engine was one woman vomiting into a plastic bag.

My heart was racing with a burst of adrenaline as I struggled to don my life jacket. I heard Sam say that he could swim better and keep me afloat without the hindrance of a great orange thing around his neck, and he refused to wear one. Other passengers old, infirm, or hugely overweight also did not bother to put on theirs. I wanted the best chance of survival, and I asked a crew member to help me fasten the lifejacket straps properly. He told me he was used to rough seas, and not to worry.

Several ship’s officers were looking at us with concern from the gangway, and smug cruisers regarded us as entertainment and watched our plight from the safety of their balconies on the upper decks. Officers radioed to the boat’s captain to return us to the port so that we could board a larger tender. My heart sank as we moved away from virtual rescue and back into the open sea again.

The vomiting lady excelled herself all the way back to port, where a larger tender had appeared. Soaking wet, terrified, and clutching my damp rucksack, I reluctantly boarded the vessel with Sam, who cuddled me all the way back to the cruise ship with two cold, wet arms.

The rain stopped as suddenly as it had begun, the sun came out, and we were at last able to be transferred safely back to the cruise ship. As I walked through the security scanner, I was dismayed to be greeted with a cup of steaming hot milky chocolate. I am dairy intolerant!

You can start writing at any time, but make sure you post your story by the 30th of the month!

Once you’ve posted your story to your blog, put a link to it in the comments section, and we’ll add your story to the Battle Stories Line-up post.

Make sure to check back and read some of the stories of your fellow battlers. Leave comments to encourage these writers, and share each other’s stories!

Travel horror stories. EEEK! I went through a couple of years where no matter where I went Delta let my suitcase run a couple of days behind. It’s no fun wearing newly purchased slippery Italian designer underwear for a couple of days.

Wow Stevie, truly terrifying experience. So glad you can recount the tale though. Things like this can come back and haunt you at times too. Reminders that life can be fragile and taken for granted. Anything could happen at any moment and remembering that helps us live better.

That reminds me of watching Titanic. I used to be a lifeguard, even coached lifesaving and competed at national level. So for a full week after watching the movie I was rescuing people in my sleep. I’m hoping this story is from your imagination, but if not we’ll done for not panicking.

That’s a quite adventurous trip you took to board the Cruise ship…..I have experience of travelling in smaller fishing trawler on the rough waters of Bay of Bengal here in Vizag, India and I know that’s not a very comfortable experience……a tense reading of your post indeed..